


finders keepers

by alnima



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on a Tumblr Post, Light-Hearted, M/M, Silly, Theft, Tiny bit of sad Harry, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alnima/pseuds/alnima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Zayn gets drunk and steals a dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	finders keepers

**Author's Note:**

> Even though I still have a few scenes left to write on my big bang fic, I really miss writing Zarry. So, as a birthday present to myself, here is a little Zarry thing I wrote!
> 
> It's based on [this post](http://lilohasnocontrol.tumblr.com/post/139497127393/ihavealotoffeelings-ojitos-morenos). And I know that Harry doesn't actually have any dogs, but this is fiction, so please pretend that it makes sense. Also, Zayn is really dumb to steal a dog, even if he is drunk, so please don't take anyone's pets in real life. It's not nice and it'll make people sad. So moral of the fic, don't be like Zayn at all. The Zayn in this fic, at least.
> 
> It's been 84 years (four months) since I posted a Zarry work, so I hope you all can enjoy this :)
> 
>  
> 
> **Disclaimer: I don't know or own anyone. This work is my own and it is not featured on any other site, nor does anyone have my permission to repost it in its entirety. Recs are fine, links are fine, but copying and pasting is not fine. Thank you!!!**

Zayn wakes to a pounding ache in his head, one that shakes his skull and leaves him feeling queasy. He has to wait to stand, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his down so that he can breathe deeply, anything to get the room to stop spinning.

It’s the last time he’s drinking with Louis. The very last time in the future of the world, or history of the world…something like that. His head hurts and he can’t think right now, but he does know that he’s never going to drink with Louis again.

At least until next weekend, since who is he kidding here. He said the same thing last weekend and look at him now. Hungover and tired, just like he swore he wouldn’t be.

“Fuck,” Zayn groans, rubbing at tired eyes as he stumbles towards the bathroom. He splashes his face with cool water, and tells himself that it’s really not that bad. He’s being overdramatic and he knows it. But it helps the hangover, he swears that it does, because already his head is calming down and he can think properly.

Now, one very important thing to know about Zayn, is that he lives alone. Completely alone. There’s not even a plant inside of his apartment, just him…and maybe some spider lurking somewhere, trying to challenge his authority and take over the place. Zayn will deal with him later. Right now, though…right now he needs to deal with the giant lump on his couch.

It’s too small to be Louis. And he can—or well, he thinks that he can remember them saying goodbye to each other outside of the bar and going their separate ways, Louis climbing into a cab as he walked home, hoping to sober up a bit. But he doesn’t remember bringing anything…or anyone maybe, back with him.

The lump on the couch is covered in blankets that begin to shift around, wiggling almost as whatever is underneath tries to find a way out. And when it does, Zayn blinks, once and then again, just to be sure that he did it right the first time.

He has to rub at his eyes, because there’s a dog - a puppy, really - staring at him from across the room, mouth open in a happy grin as he pants. And well, Zayn’s pretty sure that it’s a dog.

Brown fur, almost greenish eyes, four paws (three that he can see), two flappy ears, and a wagging tail…yeah, definitely a dog.

“Right. And you are?” Zayn asks the dog, rolling his eyes when he realizes that he’s talking to a damn dog and the thing isn’t going to reply to him. Eh, who cares. “How did you get in here?”

The puppy whines, jumping up and staring down on the floor like he’s scared to jump off the couch. His body rocks back and forth, as he lowers himself before bouncing back up just to yap at Zayn, demanding that he be put on the ground in dog talk. Luckily for him, Zayn speaks dog.

“If you can’t get yourself down, then you shouldn’t get up there,” Zayn tells the dog, holding him—oh no, her up in the air to look at her face, staring into her sickeningly sweet eyes. “You’re cute, you know that?”

He tucks the puppy under his arm and moves into the kitchen. There’s a bag of dog food propped against the fridge, which is odd, because Zayn’s never bought a bag of dog food a day in his life.

“Did that come with you?”

The puppy replies by licking his face; wet tongue slobbering all over his skin. It’s stupidly endearing, because she has puppy breath and smells like dandelions and everything good in the world.

Zayn presses his face to her neck, breathing her in for a second before he sets her on the ground.

“Let’s get you some water,” he mutters, quickly grabbing a bowl and filling it up for her. The puppy hops around on the floor, her butt in the air as she dives to attack the rug he keeps in front of the sink, growling as she nips on the edges, shaking her head in an attempt to kill the rug. And last time Zayn checked, it was already dead, being as that it’s made of cotton.

“That’s a girl,” he laughs, setting the bowl down on the floor.

There’s an annoying vibrating sound coming from—Zayn looks around, trying to the find source of the noise as the puppy shoves her face in the bowl, lapping up the water quickly. His phone is sitting on the edge of the table, dangling precariously over the edge, and when he hits the button to light the screen up, he can see why. His screen is filled with missed calls from Liam, along with a slew of messages that he quickly unlocks, reading the first few that pop up.

**_RU OUT OF UR MIND?????_ **

**_Zayn u cnt do sumthin lke that!!!_ **

****

**_Dnt call me if ur getting arrestted_ **

****

**_Idk anything ok???_ **

****

**_Ugh zayn!!!!!!!_ **

****

**_Call me if ur getting arrested ok??? Theft isn’t a good thing!!!_ **

****

Zayn blinks at the message in confusion, frowning, because what the hell is Liam talking about? Getting arrested? Theft? What the hell would he even steal in the first place?

He quickly taps out a simple ‘ _not in jail’_ to stop Liam from worrying. His battery lasts just long enough to let him know that the message sent before it dies, his phone powering down and preventing him from ever knowing if Liam is going to reply, at least until he can plug it in to get a charge going.

And it’s probably for the best, Zayn’s head is still aching and he doesn’t want to deal with false accusations of theft. Because honestly, what the actual fuck is Liam thinking trying to say that Zayn stole a dog?

Wait.

Liam didn’t mention what Zayn stole, just that he committed theft.

_Oh._

Tiny teeth bite into his ankle, chewing like they just found the greatest toy in the world, a sharp confirmation that he did, in fact, steal a dog the night before. Right. That would explain why there was a puppy on his couch this morning.

“Did I steal the food, too?” Zayn asks, biting his lip as he tries to find some memory in his mind of mugging someone for their dog and a bag of puppy chow. The puppy stares up at him, whining as she paws at his leg.

++

Zayn makes breakfast and brings the puppy outside, sitting in his chair and watching as she runs around his yard.

The perk of living in a bottom floor apartment, is that he doesn’t have to walk up or down any stairs to get outside. It’s glorious and Zayn feels like he owns it. Like his neighbors should be asking his permission to store their bikes out here and their barbeque pits. They don’t and of course he doesn’t make them, but it’d be nice.

Zayn eats his breakfast as the puppy explores his yard, carefully chewing on his eggs as he tries to recall the events of the night before. It’s a bit hazy, as it always is after a night with Louis and tequila, but there are faint traces, just teeny tiny little memories of what happened the night before.

Zayn can remember going out. That much is clear. He can remember the name of the bar that they went to (Anvil), where it is (the corner of Milwaukee and 18th), and how he got there (the Milwaukee bus heading west). Louis had met him there, two drinks in and encouraging Zayn to catch up.

They drank inside, went outside and smoked and played a shit game of darts with a group of cute girls that Louis had been eyeing the whole night. Zayn stood by, hands stuck in his pockets, watching Louis try to charm the whole group instead of the pretty blonde. And then things start to get fuzzy after the tequila shots, one round after another.

And then he walked home, which is probably when it happened. So somewhere between Anvil and his apartment, he…well, if he’s being honest about it, stole a dog. A puppy. A tiny brown thing that’s chasing after a small white butterfly, trying to catch it before it can flutter off.

But that’s all he can remember, just that he drank far too much and stole someone’s dog.

Well, he doesn’t remember actually taking the dog. And unless there is video surveillance of him doing it – which there could be, since there is a stretch of houses and apartments that he’d have to pass on his walk home that are far too nice for the area – then no one can actually point him to the crime. So, as far as Zayn is concerned, he’s innocent. And as far as everyone else is concerned, the cute puppy running towards him, tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth, belongs to him.

Zayn grins to himself, letting a hand fall down for the puppy to lick when she reaches him, because he kind of likes the sound of this dog being his.

++

“All right, follow me pretty lady,” Zayn calls over his shoulder, patting his thigh. He hears nails clicking against the hardwood as the puppy rushes after him. “I’m hungover and tired. I know that doesn’t mean anything to you, but it means that we need to relax today. So, we’re going to find something to watch on TV. What do you like?”

With a grunt, Zayn scoops the dog off the floor and drops down on the couch, stretching out with the puppy on his chest, already chewing on his fingers and the end of the remote in Zayn’s hand.

“You gotta let me have it for a second, then you can eat it. Just don’t chew any buttons off.”

There’s nothing on, not like there would be on a Sunday afternoon, there never is. But that doesn’t him from flipping through each channel like the guide doesn’t exist, carefully watching the dogs face to see what if he’ll stumble upon something she likes. Finally she bites on his finger, startling him.

“Right. What have we got? Oh, Bambi. That’s not a bad one,” he says, kicking his legs around so that he can get the blanket over them, the soft one that his mom gave him.

He scratches behind the puppy’s ears as he watches, gently petting her as her eyes slowly begin to blink. She doesn’t sleep, but she does lie down, staring contently at the screen, the movie pacifying her as it plays on.

“You like Bambi?” Zayn asks, feeling himself grow tired. “Should call you that, shouldn’t I? Little Bambi. Pretty girl Bambi.”

++

Someone is pounding on Zayn’s door, causing him to wake from his nap with a start. The puppy – now Bambi, he does remember naming her before he fell asleep – is barking wildly, standing on his chest, trying to scare whoever is behind the door.

Zayn’s head pounds to the rhythm of the knocks, annoying him as he stands, carefully wrapping Bambi in the blanket and carrying her towards the door.

Just as quickly as the door is opening does Liam fall inside, slamming it shut and moving to peek out of the window.

“I don’t think anyone followed me,” Liam mutters, head pressed against the glass.

“Okay,” Zayn says, brows pulling together as he watches his friend make a fool of himself. “That’s great, I guess. Was someone supposed to follow you here?”

“I don’t know, Zayn,” Liam sighs, finally turning to look at him. “Oh god, you’ve still got that thing.”

“You knew that I took her?”

“Of course I did, you called me when you did it.”

“What’d I say?”

Liam rolls his eyes, shoving his hand into his pocket and blindly handing Zayn his phone. “The voicemail is still on there. I figured there was no point in deleting it if the police showed up for me.”

This time Zayn rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Liam doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time. No one is going to come looking for him.

Bambi is wiggling around wildly in his arms, trying to escape from his blanket hold so that she can get to Liam. And that’s not a bad idea, actually, letting the puppy take care of Liam while he listens to the damage of the situation.

“Here, you hold onto Bambi,” Zayn says, passing the puppy over. She immediately begins licking Liam’s face, nibbling on his cheek and trying to crawl up his chest.

“You found out her name?”

“No, I named her myself. It’s cute, right?”

“Zayn, you can’t name a dog that you—“

“Shh,” Zayn interrupts, waving at Liam as the voicemail begins to play, his own voice playing in his ear.

‘ _Liam. Liam, it’s me.’_ His voice is quiet, low and slightly garbled, like he’s trying to hide it from someone. ‘ _I found something. It’s in the bushes. There’s a thing in the bushes. I think it’s someone following me. I’m being—_

_I found it, Liam. Oh, it’s a puppy, Liam. A little puppy and he has puppy eyes and oh wow, yeah. I’m gonna take him, Liam. Oh, he’s coming home with me, come on little puppy. Come with your new daddy. Oh he’s so happy, Liam. I found him lost. I—he was following me around his yard because I heard him through the fence, so I—_

_Oh yeah, one of the slots was loose so I helped him out. He’s mine now, Liam. My new little puppy pup. Say hi to Liam, puppy. Ha, did you hear him? Too good. Okay Liam, next time, don’t be a fucking dud. Come out and get puppies with us. I mean drunk. Oh god, I can’t believe I bought a puppy!’_

Zayn blinks as he pulls the phone away from his ear, embarrassment creeping up his spine quickly, and he must look like a tomato with how warm he feels from the heat of his shame.

“You have to delete that,” he says, passing the phone back silently to Liam. “I don’t want—no one needs to hear that ever again.”

It’s the most embarrassing voicemail that Zayn has ever left. He’s left a few in his day that he’s not proud of, but that? That needs to thrown into a fire and destroyed immediately.

When his pride eventually comes back to him – minutes later, because that was bad, so bad – he asks Liam, “So I called you as I was taking it?”

“I would assume so, since you know…you said you were taking him—“

“Her.”

“Her home,” Liam finishes, raising an eyebrow at Zayn as he sets an impatient Bambi down on the ground. “I can’t believe you took someone’s dog.”

Zayn shrugs. “Do you have any idea whose dog that is?”

“No clue. Not a single one. If I knew, I’d have called them to ask them not to call the police on you.”

“Liam, people don’t call the cops over missing dogs. They put up those stupid posters on every telephone pole and stop light around town. They don’t call the police, though,” he says, watching as Bambi tries to untie Liam’s shoes, as he tries in vain to shoo her away. “They might call local animal shelters, though.”

“Maybe you should take her there, so her owner will know that she’s okay.”

“Liam, are you kidding me? That’s like dropping a baby off at an orphanage, you wouldn’t do that.”

“Zayn,” Liam shouts, eyes wide and arms held out in the air. “That’s what you do. You take the baby to the proper authorities; you don’t keep a child that doesn’t belong to you. And you don’t take one either, that’s called kidnapping and I think it’s a felony.”

“Well,” Zayn mumbles, nodding, because he knew that. Obviously he knows that. He’s not an idiot and he would never take someone’s baby. He doesn’t even want a baby. They’re cute and everything, but not for him. A dog on the other hand… He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “This isn’t a baby, is it? It’s a dog, so your rules are stupid.”

“You taking a dog is stupid.”

“I was drunk!”

“Please, like that’ll hold up in court,” Liam snorts, folding his arms over his chest, his battle for his shoes laces forgotten. “You’re a felon and I don’t want you to come crawling to me when this all blows up in your face.”

++

“Liam’s wrong, you know,” Zayn says, sitting down carefully on the ground, hooking the leash he bought onto her collar. “There’s no way that this is going to blow up in my face.” He nods to himself, satisfied when Bambi blinks up at him.

It’s been a few days since he first brought her home, with no word from anyone about a missing dog or from the police beating down his door, not like they would, but according to Liam, they might. There hasn’t even been any whispers about a local drunk stealing from the neighbors and believe him, Zayn has been on high alert, since he can’t be too certain that someone didn’t catch him that night.

“Right. Leash on you, clothes and shoes on me. I just need to grab my keys and my wallet, then we’re set to go, right?” Zayn asks, shoving his wallet into one pocket and his keys into another. “Do you need anything else for the park?”

Bambi whines a bit, chewing on her leash in response. Zayn takes that as confirmation that she’s tired of waiting for him, so with a sigh, he swings his door open and leads her outside.

As he walks through town, Zayn kind of expects someone to dive out of a bush somewhere and scream and shout that Bambi is their dog and they want her back. And then maybe, if this were to play out like Liam’s nightmares, they’d beat Zayn with a stick or something they found on the street, maybe even just an older lady’s purse. But that doesn’t happen.

Zayn weaves through the streets easily, smiling at people who tell him that he has a cute dog, and trying his best not to drag Bambi down the street when she stops to sniff every inch of dirt that she can. When they pass buildings, Bambi runs to the doors like she’s home, but they’re not walking in the direction of the bar, so Zayn just assumes she’s tired of walking.

“Already a diva, are you?” He says, scooping her off the ground to carry her. “We’re about three blocks to the park, I’ll carry you until we get there and then I’ll bet you want to run around and play.”

As they turn the corner, Zayn spots a white piece of paper taped to the window of one of his favorite delis, one that makes his stomach drop to his knees.

_LOST DOG_

_Female chocolate puppy, last seen on Saturday._

_Goes by the name, Coco._

_If found, please call Harry._

There’s a number listed as well, along with a picture of a pretty brown puppy face. Zayn stares at the picture, then at the dog in his hands and tries to compare them. There are a few similarities, sure.

Like the greenish colored eyes and the brown fur (a given on any chocolate lab, so that’s not saying much), the floppy ears, and cute saggy cheeks. But besides that…well, Zayn doesn’t see it. Whoever Harry is, he’s looking for another dog. Clearly.

“And you don’t look like a Coco. That’s not your name, right? You’re not Coco, are you?”

Bambi’s nose twitches, her tongue coming out to lick at Zayn’s face, tiny teeth digging into his cheeks. And see, even the dog knows that she’s not Coco, so Zayn ignores the sign and goes about his business, wishing the best for that Harry guy and his puppy friend.

Inside the park, there’s a small pond, one that’s mostly used for fishing and throwing rocks in, Zayn’s not sure nor does he really care, because he’s not going to actually use it for anything other than something nice to look at.

He finds a clear area, right by a group of ducks and decides to sit down. He sets Bambi on the ground and watches as she stares at the ducks, barking occasionally and scaring some of them off.

It’s a warm afternoon, the park filled with the sounds of people and animals, dogs barking in the distance as children laugh at a nearby playground. Zayn likes it, likes resting in the grass and watching as his dog (he can call it his, okay?) bounces around, trying to break free of her leash to chase the ducks in the pond.

She’s happy. Zayn likes knowing that he made her happy.

++

Bambi manages to break free from her leash, diving into the lake to attack the ducks. She doesn’t make it far, going until the water reaches her stomach and stopping, yapping away at the ducks that are swimming off.

Zayn tries his best to be angry, but as he’s scolding her, she smiles at him, mouth hung open and tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. He can’t be angry. Not at her. Not at his little Bambi dog.

And really, he shouldn’t be getting attached to a dog that he stole. Or, if he wants to look at this situation differently, a dog that an owner neglected to take away from Zayn when he drunkenly broke – maybe, it could have been broken before he got there – down their fence to get the dog.

So yeah, obviously and totally not Zayn’s fault…entirely his fault. Someone else is to blame as well; he’s not going to take the full heat for the situation.

On their way home, they pass another lost dog poster from the Harry guy, and Zayn hopes that he’s treated his dog better than Bambi’s owner treated her, letting her get stolen and everything, must not have liked her too much, Zayn reckons.

++

Zayn leaves the lights on when he leaves for work that evening, feeling bad for having to leave Bambi at home by herself. But he needs the money, and he figures that she’s old enough that staying home alone for a couple hours won’t result in too much of his apartment being destroyed when her puppy anxiety kicks in.

It’s not that long of a walk to work, just heading to the park where he took Bambi before, where he works at an outdoor café. Serving isn’t his favorite job, but when the snotty rich people come to eat, the tips are excellent, so he can’t complain too much.

He feels guilty the further away from home he gets, a sinking feeling settling deep in his gut, dragging him down like lead and making him wonder if he should have called off. Which is just ridiculous, because he needs to work and he can’t put his life on hold for a dog that – technically – doesn’t belong to him.

The way he sees it, he’s proving Liam wrong. He’s not sure in what way exactly, at least not yet anyway.

Standing on the corner with a frown on his face, is a boy handing out papers to people. He looks lost and a bit frantic, begging people to please take a paper from him.

Zayn eyes him wearily, wondering how he should proceed and if the other boy is a danger when their eyes connect, the curly-haired brunette stepping forward and holding out a paper for Zayn.

“Have you seen this dog?” He asks and Zayn stares down at the paper, the same flyer he saw before. So this must be Harry, he thinks, staring down at the bright eyes of the puppy on the flyer.

“Uh… I don’t think so,” Zayn lies. Kind of lies. There’s no solid proof that the dog he has is connected to this boy and this dog.

Harry sighs, and it’s almost painful listen to, like he’s on the verge of crying, desperate and sad. “Right,” he mutters, swallowing back any emotion that Zayn thought he saw before. “Do you think that you can take one of these…I don’t know, just so you can have something to remember her by? And my number, so that if you see her, you can reach me? And maybe show your friends?”

“Yeah, sure,” Zayn tells him, smiling as he accepts the paper. “I’m sorry that you lost your dog.”

“It’s okay.” Harry tries to smile but the corners of his mouth mostly twitch before dropping back down, everything about him pitiful in this moment. “Just please don’t throw it away.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Okay, thanks. I just…really want to get Coco back.”

“Coco,” Zayn repeats, trying to keep the look of distaste off his face. “Is that like, chocolate?”

“No, like Chanel.”

“Right.” So Harry has no idea how to name a dog, whatever. “I’ve got to get going, but I’ll be sure to look out for your dog,” Zayn assures him, smiling before he rushes off down the street, not wanting to be late for work because some guy with sparkling green eyes is making him feel things. Things like guilt and regret and a little bit of lust, if he’s being honest.

“Thanks,” Harry calls after him, voice loud and clear in the busy street.

++

Work did two things for Zayn tonight. One thing is that it made him money that he needs to pay his electricity bill. And the other, is that…well, it made him feel like a guilty asshole because – and he thinks this would surprise no one – is that maybe he was wrong about Bambi not belonging to Harry. Maybe she really is his after all. And maybe Zayn was wrong to think anything different.

But…well no, he really isn’t in any position to deny someone their dog, besides as the criminal that Liam says he is. But then again, if Bambi does belong to Harry, then maybe he should save her from him.

He named her Coco, for Christ’s sake. And not even for chocolate, which would have just been stupidly clever and ironic in all the wrong ways, but instead it was for Chanel. And Harry could have even called her Chanel, but instead he had to be even more stupidly ironic by calling a chocolate lab puppy Coco, after a designer and not chocolate.

Really, it’s all just neglectful in Zayn’s opinion. Dogs need good, strong names. Not even strong, just good.

And Coco just isn’t good. Not in general. In general it’s fine, but it’s horrible for Bambi. She’s Bambi. She named herself practically, so Zayn would be wrong to deny her that, which is exactly why he’s a better owner than Harry…if Harry even is her owner.

Zayn groans at the thought, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair. He’s not supposed to be a dick about this. It’s not his dog. It’s just not, no matter how many times he steals her. She’s not his…unless he got a collar with her name on it that said his address so that—

No. God, he really needs to be stopped.

And who better to stop him than the suspected real owner of Bambi, Harry.

He’s still standing on the corner he was at when Zayn left him, begging people to stop and look at the dog picture in his hand. His hands practically shake as he holds the papers out, his voice breaking and taking on a hysterical and desperate note.

Zayn frowns at him, taking pity on the other boy as he approaches him cautiously.

“Um…Harry,” Zayn mumbles, reaching out slowly to rest his hand on Harry’s shoulder, turning him towards him. “Are you all right?”

Harry blinks, his eyes coming into focus on Zayn. “No,” he answers, shaking his head.

“Right, I can see that, actually. Do you want to…I don’t know, come get some coffee with me? Decaf, for you, I think.”

“No,” Harry mutters, shaking his head harshly. “I need to pass these out. I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been at work for five hours and you’re still here. So, you’ve been here at least that long, maybe it’s time for a break.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of these people, come on. You can hold onto those, hand them out as we walk, then get some food in you.”

Harry blinks at him so Zayn smiles, trying his best to look reassuring. He has no idea why he’s asking him out for coffee, other than because he knows it’s not healthy for Harry to be standing out here without eating or drinking, without breathing, probably.

It takes a little while, but eventually Harry nods, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction as his head bobs up and down. He breathes out slowly, allowing Zayn to get a grip on the sleeve of his shirt, something to make sure Harry can’t chase after anyone that doesn’t take a paper as they walk by.

++

The diner they’re in is small, with checkered floors and red booth tables. The kind of place with pies and cookies in glass containers on the counter where people can sit down and talk. Zayn avoids those and drags Harry towards a booth in the corner, near some of the others hidden by a wall to separate them from the main area. He keeps his grip on Harry’s shirt strong, mindful of the material, even if his main concern is making sure the other boy sits and stays.

Harry’s hands stop shaking after the first cup of coffee, his shoulders not as tight as they were and Zayn thinks that’s good. He’s still frowning, but it’s coffee, not a miracle.

“I’m sorry,” Harry murmurs after the waitress refills his mug, his eyes cast downwards, and his frown is still there.

“For what?” Zayn asks, frowning in confusion. “You didn’t do anything. Why are you sorry?”

“I freaked out, didn’t I?”

“Oh, uh…well, you know,” Zayn coughs, scratching the back of his neck. “It wasn’t—“

Harry laughs, finally smiling at Zayn when their eyes connect. “You don’t have to be nice about it. I know how I was acting.”

“Yeah, all right. Well, even still, it’s not really your fault. Shit happens.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“If I had a dog and it went missing, I’d feel plenty panicked, so don’t worry about it, Harry. Really.”

“I just feel awful about it,” Harry sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. “She’s only a puppy and I don’t know. I just keep thinking that she’s scared.”

Zayn nods a few times, taking a careful sip of his coffee. “How did she go missing?” He asks, because it’s a fair question, and he wants to know if he should freak out or not. “Did she get away from you or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” Harry says. “Kind of. We weren’t like, out or anything. I live a little ways down this street and she was whining in the middle of the night, so I let her out. But my porch light went out, so I had to grab a flashlight so I could see her. And I don’t know… I left the door open, in case she finished before me.” He shakes his head as he remembers it, frown appearing once more, and Zayn holds his breath, waiting. “When I came out, she wasn’t there. I tried finding her but…part of my fence was broken. I didn’t think she’d be able to break it. It’s all my fault. I should have fixed it earlier.”

Zayn chokes on his coffee as Harry finishes, continuing his rant about how if he had just fixed the fence everything would be fine and Coco would be home…which isn’t exactly true. Zayn definitely stole Harry’s dog. And he definitely broke his fence further so that he could get the dog he was stealing.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, eyes wide as he passes Zayn a napkin.

Zayn nods, unable to get words out as he coughs.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, just swallowed wrong,” he lies, grimacing at Harry.

Harry stares at him for a moment, studying him carefully before he talks once more about his dog. Zayn doesn’t say anything, just sits in silence and listens as Harry rambles on about how he’s already gotten the fence fixed and he’s going to make sure that no puppy can break it down again.

Zayn doesn’t mention the dog currently at his house, the one that he stole from Harry, the one that’s probably curled up on his couch or chewing one of his shoes.

He’s not sure why doesn’t mention it. Yes he does, because he’s horrible. Absolutely horrible.

++

The first thing Zayn does when he gets home – after he slams his door shut and locks it – is call Liam. Bambi chases after him as he walks through his apartment, leaving the lights off and pretending that he can’t hear the dog following after him.

“Hel—“

“Liam, I fucked up,” Zayn says, cutting him off.

“Okay…what happened?”

So Zayn tells him about Harry, how he saw the poster at the park today but ignored it because he didn’t think Bambi was the dog in the picture. But then he ran into Harry again today before work, practically crying on the street corner as he passed out flyers and begged people to keep an eye out for his dog. He finishes with the story of the diner, how he definitely stole someone’s dog. A pretty someone’s dog, to make it all worse, because Harry’s really pretty, with his doe-eyed look and green eyes and sparkling smile.

“I don’t know what to do,” Zayn sighs, resting his head against the wall and staring at nothing in particular.

“Yeah, right. Okay, so you give the dog back,” Liam says, like it’s obvious.

“Do I have to?” Zayn whines, not the least bit ashamed of himself and how he sounds like a giant toddler.

Liam scoffs on the other side of the phone and Zayn imagines the disappointment in his eyes. “You know, if you want a dog so badly, you could get your own. The world has more than it can handle. You’d be doing the animal shelters a favor.”

“Yeah, well. I liked this one.”

Liam sighs, laughing lightly. “Finders keepers. And in this case, Harry found her first.”

“Yeah well, I found her second…and last.”

“Technicality. That doesn’t count, nice try, though.”

“Thanks,” Zayn mutters, reaching around blindly for a light switch. He finds one and flips it up, blinking down at the puppy on the floor staring up at him, tail wagging wildly against the floor. “Fuck. I have to give her back, don’t I?”

“I’ve only been saying that since you first took her, but yeah. You have to give her back.”

++

Zayn wakes up early the following morning, lying in bed with Bambi draped across his lap. There’s a knot in his stomach, because he actually and whole-heartedly stole a dog and now he has to give it back.

It feels like he’s seven years old all over again, with a pocket full of gum as his mom drags him back into the supermarket to apologize for having taken it in the first place. He remembers the shop owner being nice about it, staring down at him sadly and reminding him that he can’t take things without paying for them. His mother hadn’t been as nice about it. She didn’t yell at him, but Zayn remembers feeling awfully about stealing when they returned home. And feeling even worse about it when he had to tell his father that he took things.

This time he’s not going to have to tell his parents, though he’ll be surprised if Liam doesn’t rat him out the next time they’re both around his family. His mom will probably bop him upside the head, because he’s not a child anymore. And his dad will probably laugh, since the situation is pretty ridiculous.

But it’s not ridiculous to Harry. It’s emotional and upsetting and awful to Harry. He misses his dog and he deserves to have her back.

The problem with giving back the dog, besides the fact that Zayn won’t have her anymore, is that he’s not sure how Harry is going to react to the whole thing.

He’d have every right to hate Zayn, to yell at him and possibly beat him up, if he were that type of person. Zayn doesn’t think he is, but then again, anyone would be well within their own right to throw a punch at someone who stole their dog.

God, Zayn hates that word. Stole. It sounds so malicious, like he planned the entire thing. Like he wanted to take Harry’s dog just so he could watch him cry on a street corner.

That’s not what happened, and he hopes that Harry will understand.

++

“It’s our last morning together, Bambi,” Zayn says, still refusing to call her Coco. “I’ve poured you some food so that we can eat together. I’d let you eat at the table but…that’s pretty nasty, sorry.”

Bambi jumps on his leg, pawing at him, trying to get the bowl out of his hands. He laughs as he sets it down on the ground and she dives into it, sending food flying in all directions, scattering it across the floor.

“Don’t forget to finish that, please. I’ll get ants or rats if you don’t, probably both.”

It’s a bittersweet breakfast, one that Zayn hardly touches as he watches Bambi eat her own. She chomps away at the food wildly, like she doesn't know when her next meal will be. Even though since she's been with Zayn, he feeds her like clockwork, never forgetting to lay a bowl down on the ground for her.  
  
Afterwards, he curls up on the couch with Bambi beside him, chewing on the edge of his shirt as she falls asleep, already in need of a nap. He fiddles around with his phone, Harry's flyer lying on the table in front of him, staring ominously at him.  
  
With a sigh, he dials the number printed on the front, the one that'll connect him to Harry.  
  
"Hello?" Comes Harry's voice, quick and sharp.  
  
"Harry? Hey, uh. What are you doing right now?"  
  
"Uh... Who is this?"  
  
"Right. Sorry. It's Zayn." And because he can't remember if he introduced himself last night, he adds, "We got coffee last night."  
  
"Oh, Zayn," Harry chirps, happy, making Zayn smile. "I was on my way out to tape up more flyers. My friend noticed I've only been paying attention to one area, so I thought I'd put some up north, then maybe head south in the afternoon."  
  
"Harry," Zayn swallows, scratching at Bambi's ears. "Maybe you don't need to put up flyers."  
  
"What do you mean? Of course I do."  
  
"No, I'm not saying you shouldn't. I'm just saying--"  
  
"Do you want to come with me?"  
  
Zayn sits up in his seat, back straightening. "What?" He asks, because he can't be too certain that he's hearing Harry correctly, he did make off and steal his dog, maybe that's affected his hearing.  
  
"I said, do you want to come with me? You could...I don't know, help me to not freak out."  
  
"Uh..." Zayn really, really shouldn't. He has the dog here on his lap, he should just tell Harry that it's a waste of paper and ink and time and emotional hurt because he has he dog in his apartment.  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Okay," Zayn tells him and fuck if he's not the dumbest person in the world.

++

"Do you think it's because we're using white paper that everyone is ignoring them?"  
  
Zayn stares down at the flyer, shrugging. Or maybe everyone just knows he's a thief and they're not worried about it.  
  
"Why would white paper be a bad thing?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry mutters, his shoulders heaving as he sighs. "I just think it's not as attention grabbing. Everyone probably thinks it's something dumb, like a no parking sign. Maybe we should reprint them as neon pink or yellow, to really grab people's attention."  
  
"Yeah...well, maybe we could do that now? We could pack this all up and make new flyers,” Zayn suggests, the ugly swirl of guilt in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole.

They’ve been putting up flyers for an hour, walking along Hampton Street and taping them up as they go. Zayn’s resisted the urge to yank them all down and toss them in some of the local recycling bins on some of the corners. But he couldn’t do that without Harry possibly seeing and that’s…not something Zayn wants to explain without a puppy in his hand, a peace offering that’ll prevent Harry from attacking him like he deserves.

“I don’t know…we just started,” Harry says, biting his lip. “Are you sure we should do that?”

“I think now would be the best time, yeah. It’s better than putting all of these up and then having to make more. We can…I don’t know, recycle these white ones, since you’re not going to put them up anymore,” he suggests, and he’s sweating. He’s honest to god sweating because he’s so nervous, terrified of the fact that he’s a no good rotten liar. “I have pink paper at my house, I can grab it and swing by your place, if you want.”

“Or I could come with you,” Harry says, brightening up for the first time since Zayn suggested they stop for the day. “It could be fun. We could maybe get something to eat, since I’m starving.”

Zayn blinks, because he’s being backed into a figurative corner, trapped without anywhere to go. But Zayn finds himself nodding, an action rewarded by a smile from Harry.

“Great,” Harry cheers, looping his arm through Zayn’s. “Which way to your place?”

“That way,” Zayn says, pointing ahead of them. He releases a shaky breath, his chest sputtering with it, faltering in its movements as they go. Because this is it, the moment before Zayn’s lies catch up with him, his unforgivable actions lose him a new friend. And it’s all for what?

A drunken idiot’s desires, apparently.

They could have been more; Zayn knows it, deep inside. If he had three more months or if the circumstances were different, he could have done all of this differently. And it’s an absurd thought, because he doesn’t actually know Harry all that well, besides how deeply he feels for his dog, how deeply he cares about things, and that he’s generally a nice guy. Until he finds out what Zayn did, and then who knows what’ll happen.

And maybe in another world, everything could have been different. He could have been the one with the dog – he really was a wonderful dad to Bambi while he’s had her – and he and Harry could have met under better circumstances. But…this is the hand he’s been dealt, so has to figure out how to play them before this all unravels beneath him.

++

“Before we go inside, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay,” Harry says, frowning as he takes a step back. “Is this the part where you like, tell me that you’ve killed someone before? Because if so, I’d like a couple minutes head start, since it’s been a while since I ran.”

“What? No. What the fuck, I’m not going to kill you.”

“I didn’t think so, but I figured I should mention it.”

“That’s…a really random thing to mention to someone when you’re standing outside of their front door.”

Harry shrugs, hands patting his thighs as he stares at Zayn impatiently. “I’d mention it to anyone, not just you. Actually I wouldn’t, but you mentioned needing to talk to me so.”

This really isn’t the foundation for any kind of conversation that Zayn wants to have, especially not one where he’s about to deliver bad news, or good news, depending on how Harry chooses to take the information, since it could go both ways. Zayn prays he takes it well.

“Right. Okay, no one is going to die, I can assure you that. Or I might, maybe. I don’t know,” Zayn says. “Um, how is your temper?”

“How’s my temper? I don’t know…average, I guess.”

“Do you hold grudges?”

“It depends on what it is.”

“Okay…that’s worrisome, but not unexpected,” Zayn mutters, running his fingers through his hair. He sighs, his shoulders dropping with the action.

“What are you trying to ask me?” Harry asks him, brows pulled together in confusion. “Because these are really weird questions, Zayn.”

Zayn winces, nodding. He knows that. He does. “Right. Okay, so um. I’ve done something really, really dumb that first, I’d like to apologize for. I am so deeply sorry, you have no idea.”

Harry tilts his head, frowning at Zayn. “Are you sure that you’re not going to kill me?”

“I took your dog,” Zayn blurts, gasping as he says it because that was not supposed to come out just yet. “I didn’t take her. Or I did, I guess. Um. Last weekend, I woke up with a dog. Your dog, apparently.”

Harry stares at him, face carefully blank as he blinks. There’s nothing there for Zayn to read, no emotion of any kind for him to feed off of, just a look that bores into his soul.

“Is she inside?” Harry asks, voice even and hesitant.

“Unless someone stole her from me, then yeah, she is,” he says and Harry nods, motioning towards the door. Right, he should open it so that Harry can see his dog.

Zayn pushes his door open slowly, and Bambi dives out of the threshold, tail wagging wildly as she jumps between Harry and Zayn, hanging onto their legs like a toddler that doesn’t want either of them to leave for work or to go anywhere without her.

Harry kneels down and brushes his fingers across her face, looking at her like he’s found the world. And maybe he has, in some weird kind of way.

Zayn watches them both hesitantly, watching as Bambi – he really should admit that her name is Coco at some point in time – licks Harry’s face excitedly, happy to see her real dad.

“This really is my dog,” Harry says to him, lifting Bambi off the ground so that he can hold her in his arms. “I thought maybe you were joking. But you really did take my dog.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Why would you take someone’s dog?” Harry asks, frowning, a mixture between sad and confused.

“I wasn’t trying to take her, I swear. I was drunk and…I don’t really remember all of it, if I’m being honest. My friend, he has a voicemail on his phone and I guess I saw her through your fence and I—“

“You broke my fence, too?”

Zayn winces, taking a step back when he sees Harry move, worried he’s going to be hit but it never comes. “I don’t have any concrete evidence that it was me.”

“But?”

“But I might have helped in the destruction, yes. I think it was a group effort.”

“You stole my dog,” Harry repeats, like he’s learning this for the first time all over again. “You stole my dog and then you didn’t say anything about it. Why would you do that? You…took me out for coffee instead of giving me my dog, which would have fixed everything, by the way. Why?”

“I wasn’t sure if she really was your dog at first, she’s a lab. They all look the same.”

“How many other missing dog posters have you seen up? Because I haven’t seen many, and I think I might have, since I was putting them all around town!”

Bambi whines in Harry’s arms, thrashing around as she tries to get down. He holds onto her tighter, trying to get her to stop so that he can yell at Zayn without having to worry about her.

“She probably needs to go to the bathroom, she’s been inside all morning.”

“Don’t tell me anything about my dog,” Harry says, glaring at him as he sets her down on the ground. She runs into the yard, doing exactly as Zayn predicted she would. He feels like an ass for being right. “Why didn’t you tell me that you had her when you knew?”

“I was going to tell you today.”

“Before or after I made an even bigger fool of myself in front of you?”

“Before. Or okay. It was before until you asked me out.”

Harry scoffs. “I’m sure that was the case. And I didn’t ask you out, I asked you to help me find my dog that you’ve been hiding in your closet.”

“She wasn’t in my closet.”

“It’s a metaphor, Zayn. It’s not supposed to be accurate.” Zayn nods instead of saying anything, because technically that’s not how metaphors work, but he’s done enough wrong without trying to educate Harry on something that he very obviously doesn’t care about in this moment. “And you know, you could have lied to me. You could have said you found her instead of keeping her.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t think you do know, actually. I think that—I think you’re selfish and I think you’re rude and I think that you stole my dog. Maybe you didn’t mean to do it and maybe you didn’t know where to take her back to, since finding a broken fence isn’t the best clue for where to go, since a lot of them are broken around here,” Harry sighs, shaking his head as he stares at Bambi. “But you knew it was me, Zayn. And you knew how badly I wanted her back.”

“Yeah…I did. I’m sorry. Really, really sorry and I promise that I can make it up to you.”

Harry snorts, rolling his eyes when he looks to Zayn. “And how do you plan on making it up, Zayn? Are you going to give me back the last week? Do you have some magic time machine that’ll help you not break my fence – that you should pay me for, by the way – and not take my dog? Or are you going to do something shitty like say I don’t have to give you the reward? Because you’re not getting it either way.”

“I didn’t even know there was a reward.”

“There’s always a reward, it’s a lost dog, Zayn. People tend to want them back.”

“Right, I know that,” Zayn says, trying not to whine and stomp his feet on the ground. He’s not the victim here; he’s the idiot that fucked up big time. “I’m just saying, I didn’t know that there was a reward, so that’s not why I’m telling you now that I took her.”

“Whatever,” Harry mutters, his shoulders sagging when he sighs. “I want to go home with my dog.”

“Okay,” Zayn nods, turning to head inside. He grabs the leash that he bought, ignoring the food in his kitchen. He can donate that to some shelter, some place that’ll take an open bag of puppy food.

When he steps outside, Harry’s getting Bambi up off the ground, brushing dirt and leaves off her feet as he presses her against his chest. He glares at Zayn when he sees him, staring at the leash in his hand. “Did you steal that, too?” He sneers, taking it from Zayn’s hand and staring at it closely, checking for any signs that it belongs to anyone other than Zayn. “Well, it’s not mine, so it’s nice to know that you didn’t break into my house as well.”

“I bought it.”

“You bought stuff for a dog that you stole? Wow, you’re a real piece of work, Zayn.”

“This was before I knew where she came from. I wasn’t sure how long she’s be here.”

“Because you weren’t going to give her back.”

Zayn sighs and fights against arguing with Harry. He’s done enough. Harry’s going to believe what he wants and that’s fine, Zayn’s not going to argue with him about what happened, nor is he going to try and defend himself any further. Harry’s going to think and feel whatever he wants and that’s fine. It’s fine. Zayn doesn’t care…except for a little bit. He cares a tiny bit about what Harry thinks about him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give her back sooner, Harry, but I’m glad that you have her back.”

“Yeah, well. No thanks to you,” Harry mutters, hooking the leash up and setting Bambi back down on the ground. She looks from Zayn to Harry, mouth hung open wide as she pants, grinning at the two of them. “I’ll figure out a way to give your leash back. Maybe. I might keep it for a while, then maybe I’ll break into your bathroom window and give it back, just throw it in and run off.”

Zayn laughs despite himself, watching as Harry’s glare worsens, his mouth setting in an even line.

“It’s not funny,” he says.

“I know it’s not,” Zayn agrees. “But I could make it up to you, you know. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you by doing this, or anything else for that matter.”

“How do you make this up, Zayn?”

Zayn shrugs, his arms falling down uselessly to his sides. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “I reckon that I’d have to do a lot, actually, but I think I could start by taking you to dinner and then…I don’t know, cleaning your car on the next cold day so I’m really cold when it happens, I don’t know.”

“Take yourself out to dinner,” Harry tells him, sparing him one last look before he walks off, his dog walking happily behind him, trying to eat the leash as they go.

Zayn watches them until they turn the corner, disappearing from his sight.

++

“I don’t know what you expected, Zayn. You stole his dog,” Liam tells him through the phone, annoying the shit out of him even more.

“Liam, I called you for emotional support.”

“Call Louis if that’s what you want, I’m going to be honest with you.”

“No, all Louis is going to do is make fun of me.” And at this point, it would probably be better than Liam’s unsympathetic nature. Except… “And he’d try to get me drunk again, which is exactly how I got into this mess.”

“No, you got into his mess because you don’t know when enough is enough.”

Zayn sighs, throwing an arm over his eyes dramatically. He’s not sure why he called Liam days later, why he felt like he needed some kind of emotional support. He didn’t really lose anyone, but he still feels awfully for what happened with Harry. And there’s a giant hole in him because of the guilt. It eats away at him, hitting him when he lets his mind wander to the look on Harry’s face when he left.

It feels like the one that got away, or something like that. He lost a cute boy, one that he probably could have known longer than just a few days, and he lost a dog. Neither were ever his, not in any kind of way other than he would have liked for them to be, at some point…maybe. It was too early to tell with Harry, but he definitely felt that way about Bambi—Coco, whatever.

“Zayn, I’m sorry that you’re upset about all this, but…I don’t know what you expected. Not to sound like your mom or some cheesy advert, but you did the crime and now you have to do the time. It’s how life works.”

“Life sucks,” Zayn mumbles, aware of the fact that he sounds like a child, but he doesn’t care. It’s only Liam, he’s heard worse from Zayn.

“Yeah, it does, but you’ll get over it. You’ve gone through worse.”

Zayn nods, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. Calling Liam didn’t help him any, and he knew it wouldn’t but maybe Zayn just wanted someone to rub the salt into his wounds so that he can be reminded of the fact that he did something wrong and he hurt someone.

++

Zayn groans awake, the vibrating of his phone disturbing his otherwise peaceful slumber. He pats around his bed, eyes still closed as he tries to find the device. Shoving his hand under his pillow, he yanks it off the cord and brings it to his ear, the vibrating happening too frequently to be texts.

“What?” He croaks, expecting to hear Louis’ loud mouth cutting through the silence of his bedroom.

It’s definitely not Louis.

“I’m hungry.”

“Okay. And? Who is this?”

“It’s Harry,” he says and Zayn sits up so quickly that his head spins, the room whirling around like he’s back on the teacup ride at the carnival with his little sister, spinning around as fast as he can go. “And I’m hungry, but that’s not who I am, just what I am.”

“You’re hungry now? It’s—“ he pulls the phone away from his ear, checking the time quickly. “It’s three in the morning.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Uh, yeah. Like I said, it’s three in the morning.”

“Good, that’s part of your payback.”

“Not sleeping?”

“Yeah. I didn’t sleep while Coco was gone, so you don’t get to sleep either.”

“Okay,” Zayn mumbles, lying back down and rubbing at his face. “So we’ve accomplished that. Now what?”

“I don’t know. But I’m hungry.”

Zayn laughs, soft and slow. “You wanna get something to eat?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch a cab to your place. Be ready in fifteen.”

Zayn breathes out slowly, pulling the phone away once more to look at the time. It’s so late and he’s so tired, but this is Harry. And after all he’s done, it’s the very least he can do for him. He should get up. He should get dressed. And he should take Harry out to dinner…breakfast. There must be a word for something like that, like brunch except maybe dinfast? Breakinner?

“Okay, I’ll see you then,” Zayn agrees, grinning to himself in the dark.

“Don’t fall back asleep,” Harry warns.

“I won’t.”

“Okay, good. See you fifteen.”

“See you then.”

“And Zayn?”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, already sitting back up so he won’t fall back asleep and piss Harry off all over again. He pulls the phone away from his ear to make sure that Harry hasn’t hung up on him. The call is still connected and Zayn can hear him breathing, slowly and quietly, a soft assurance to Zayn that he’s still there.

Zayn doesn’t press him, just flicks his bedroom light on and grabs a clean shirt and a pair of jeans off the floor, laying them down on his bed before he heads off in search of his shoes.

“I’m still mad, you know,” Harry says finally and Zayn sighs, because yeah, he knows.

++

Harry looks like a daydream waiting for him outside of his apartment, wearing a pale yellow shirt made of lace. He smiles at Zayn when he sees him, tight lipped and hesitant, like he could be scared off at any moment. Zayn wets his lips, rubbing the sweat off his hands on his jeans and smiles back at him, hoping that he doesn’t look as scared as Harry.

“Hey.” Eloquent and straight to the point, nice job Malik.

“Hi.”

“You look nice, but not at all like you just woke up.”

“I haven’t been to bed yet,” Harry admits, laughing lightly.

“That makes one of us.”

“That it does,” Harry says with a grin, genuine and wide. “Come on, I’m hungry, and it’s going to take us a bit to walk there.”

Zayn nods and falls into step with Harry, moving down his street, heading in the direction of where they first got coffee together. It could be a guess on Zayn’s part, since there are a lot of places to get food this late around that area, further than the diner, and even closer, so he doesn't know where they’re going, but he follows Harry anyway.

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you, you know. Not ever, but definitely not so soon.”

Harry bobs his head, staring down at the concrete beneath their feet instead of at Zayn. He doesn’t answer him, just keeps walking along and that’s fine. Zayn just felt like he should know that, that Zayn wasn’t aware of him of him wanting anything to do with Zayn ever again or that they’d be getting breakinner anytime soon.

Sure enough, Harry’s holding open the door to the place they first got coffee, smiling sheepishly at Zayn as they walk inside. The booth they sat at last time is taken by a group of teenagers, so they choose another one next to the windows so they can stare out at the city. If they’re here long enough, Zayn thinks maybe they’ll be able to watch the sunrise when it happens.

“This feels like a thing,” Zayn says after they’ve ordered, two coffees served with pancakes and sausage and bacon and toast, the works, the two of them choosing the breakfast sampler so they can have a bit of everything.

“What feels like a thing?”

“Us coming back here together. It feels like…I don’t know, like it could mean something. That’s dumb, huh?”

“It’s not anything, you thinking that. And maybe it does mean something, but that’s for me to know and for you to find out. Or no, I said that wrong. That’s for me to know and for you to...not find out,” Harry mumbles, frowning, brows pulling together. “Wait. Okay, it’s ‘I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you.’ Right? I can’t remember what I mean.”

Zayn laughs, because he has absolutely no idea what Harry’s trying to say to him. “I say it’s late and you’re excused from having to remember anything.”

“Ah, everything except for how you stole my dog.”

“Yeah…I did do that. Is that why you asked me out, to publicly shame me?”

“No,” Harry admits, shaking his head. “If I wanted to do that, I’d print more flyers with your picture on them and tell everyone that you like to steal pets for fun.”

“I didn’t do it for fun.”

“I know you didn’t, I’m just saying, if I were to shame you, that would be how I do it.”

Zayn nods, smiling at their waitress as she sets their coffees down in front of them. She looks tired from working the late night shift, her feet dragging as she moves away from them, leaning against the counter to take a sip of her own coffee.

“I didn’t invite you here because I wanted to make you feel badly for what you did. I figured that you feel bad enough without any of my help.”

“Then why did you invite me here?”

“You asked me if I’m the type of person that’s holds a grudge.”

“I did, yeah.”

“And as it turns out, I’m not. I’m the type of person that tries to hold a grudge, and I think I end up feeling bad about it and decide that I shouldn’t have been such an ass to you,” Harry admits, sighing heavily. “She’s a cute dog.”

“Yeah, she is. Sweet, too.”

Harry shrugs. “She ate one of my boots. Designer boots. Expensive designer boots.”

“She did it with love.”

“She’s angry with me. I took it as a sign that I should work towards forgiving you.”

“Ah…in that case, I’m glad she ate your boots.”

“That makes one of us,” Harry mumbles, shaking his head. “Now tell me about yourself, Zayn. Start with your name, full name, your job, your age, and any government based numbers that’ll properly link back to you.”

Zayn frowns, staring at Harry over the edge of his coffee cup. “Um…I don’t—why do you need to know that?”

Harry grins, laughing to himself, his face scrunching up. “Sorry. My friend Niall told me to say that. Was it funny?”

“Hilarious,” Zayn laughs, wetting his lips as he watches Harry laugh, feeling like the luckiest person on the planet.

Their food comes and Zayn answers all of the questions that Harry wants answered, telling him about his parents and his sisters, about his job at the park restaurant, waiting tables and how he’s not sure what he’d really like to be doing, but it’s enough for now. It pays the bills and that’s all he needs.

Harry tells him about his job as an assistant to one of the corporate monsters downtown – Harry’s words, not Zayn’s – and how he’s trying to save up enough money so that he can go to the Caribbean but he usually ends up spending it on things like boots and other clothes, and even a little puppy.

It’s nice, exchanging stories about each other and their lives. Zayn assures Harry that he’s never tried to steal a dog before, but he’d love to have one of his own, something to keep him company when he’s not at work or out with Louis. Harry laughs at him and promises that getting his own dog will be more fulfilling than taking strangers. The more they talk about it, the more Harry seems to loosen up about the subject, and with time, Zayn thinks that maybe Harry can forgive him for what he did.

++

“Pretending you never stole my dog, you’re not that bad,” Harry tells him, smiling at him as he steps out of the diner. Zayn thinks about letting the door go so it closes and smacks Harry in the butt, but he doesn’t do it.

“I’m glad that my reputation hasn’t ruined me for you.”

“Oh it has, but I haven’t met my monthly charity quota, so I figured I should give you a chance.”

“Wow, you really did come out tonight prepared to swing at me, didn’t you?”

“No, I’m just teasing you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Harry laughs, coming to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk outside of the diner, turning to smile at Zayn. “I’m sure,” he says, blinking slowly at Zayn. “Sometimes I wonder if I would have been angrier at you if you weren’t so cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” Zayn asks, feeling brave as he takes a step closer to Harry.

“No,” Harry grins, wrinkling his nose at Zayn. “I think I’m tired. It’s sleep deprivation talking.”

“Mm, well, maybe I should let you go home and get some sleep. It is pretty late, or early, depending on how you look at it.”

“Maybe you should,” Harry mutters, blinking at Zayn as he takes a tiny step closer to him.

Zayn holds his breath, his eyes falling shut as Harry leans forward. He feels Harry’s smirk when his lips land against his cheek, brushing against the skin before he pulls away.

“Tease,” Zayn jokes, opening his eyes to see Harry smiling at him, biting back a laugh.

“I don’t put out on the first date with someone who steals my dog,” Harry says.

“I can respect that,” Zayn tells him and then he stops, blinking as Harry’s words sink in. “You said first date. Was this a date?” Harry shrugs. “All right. Are there going to be more?”

“Could be.”

“Now you’re really teasing me, aren’t you?”

Harry laughs, gently pushing at Zayn’s shoulder, shaking his head. “I think you still have a while to go until I fully forgive you.”

“But?” Zayn prompts and he really hopes there is a but to that.

“But…it’s supposed to be cool next weekend, so I’m thinking we can get you in a tiny pair of shorts, with a sponge in your hand and you can clean my car. I’ll obviously have to watch, just to make sure that you’re not doing a shitty job of it,” Harry sighs, like it’s going to be the worst thing in the world for him. “And that’ll be date number three, which was your suggestion before you try to say anything to get out of it. And then you’ll have to—“

“What’s date number two?”

“What?” Harry asks, frowning at Zayn.

“This is date number one, cleaning your car in a tiny pair of shorts while you perversely watch is date number three. What’s date number two?”

Harry grins, grabbing Zayn’s hand. “You’ll see,” he says, tugging Zayn away from the diner. His smile is bright and blinding, luring Zayn like he’s under a spell just from the sight of it. He lets Harry drag him along, unsure of where they’re going, but sure that it’ll be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can talk to me on my [tumblr](http://alnimawrites.tumblr.com/), let me know if you liked this? Or you can yell at me about this, whatever makes you happy :). And again, please don't steal any dogs. It's really, really bad.


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